Selfishness
by angelasdawn47
Summary: Norway is very possessive when it comes to his little brother, and he will even risk Emil's hatred to keep him all to himself. This time he may have done something Emil can't forgive. NorIce.
1. Chapter 1

Norway trotted down the stairs to the dining room, face expressionless as usual, but there was a smugness hiding in his eyes that he hadn't even tried to erase. He'd won, after all - why shouldn't be be smug?

Iceland passed by him, giving him the widest berth possible and doing everything he could to not acknowledge the other's existence. He would look almost as placid as his brother, but those who knew him well picked up on the pale boy's fury; it hid in the rigidity of his shoulders, the tightness around his eyes and mouth, as if he was only barely holding back the words that so desperately wanted to spill out . . . at the highest possible volume.

'I did that,' Norway thought, and was it so bad that he felt almost a bit proud of that? After all, he wouldn't have done anything if Icey hadn't made him. He put him in a place that demanded action on his part - what did the boy expect?

But even if he deserved what he'd got, Norway didn't like to have Iceland mad at him. He had such a nasty habit of holding on to grudges. Just like his older brother.

He watched the pale teen set the plates on the table more forcefully than normal. His hands gripped the sides of the dishes so tightly that his knuckles were white. If he squeezes them any tighter they will break, Norway observed.

"Still mad at me, Icey?" he teased, and he wasn't sure if he'd meant to sound cruel. Maybe not - it rarely got him what he wanted.

The boy froze for just a second, a plate hovering just above Denmark's place. Norway wondered if he was about to throw it at him - wouldn't _that_ be interesting. But then he'd have to replace the plate. He watched him, a bit surprised at the eagerness he felt. 'Come on, lillebror,' he thought in anticipation, feeling himself ready to dodge an attack. 'Come on. _React._ Make a scene. Then you'll have to admit that _I_ made you lose your precious composure.' And that would be just another victory for the day.

He was honestly disappointed when Iceland let out the breath he'd held in a tiny, almost inaudible sound, and set down the plate. He moved on to his own place, setting down the final plate, and walked away without a word.

'He has remarkable restraint for a teenager,' the Norwegian with almost clinical pride. His little Icey, so reserved.

But then, that was his doing too.

He sat down at his place, taking a close look at his dish to ensure there was no toxic substance spread over the porcelain. No; it seemed that his brother has passed up a perfectly good opportunity to get back at him. He settled back comfortably to wait, glad that it wasn't his night to cook. Sweden was probably still in the kitchen, watching the bread rise and warning Finny to stay away from the hot stovetop, even though the Finn obviously knew. If Lukas wasn't mistaken dinner would be beet and onion soup (Berwald's personal favorite) and some large dish involving meat, probably venison.

Norway let his thoughts drift until the food was ready. The first thing he took notice of was that Iceland was not in the right seat. He always sat beside him, always. But instead of his cold little brother, the tall and obnoxious Dane slid in to the seat on his right. He glared at him, irritated and confused, when he saw Iceland take Denmark's seat at the foot of the table. With Denmark between them it was nearly impossible to see Icey! Anger lapped at his blood, his hands twitching in to fists. He was about to stand and remedy the situation when Sweden came in, setting a bowl of hot soup directly in front of him and giving him a look he recognized: don't cause trouble.

It was usually Denmark who received that look.

The Nordic raised a cool brow, but the Berwald just narrowed his eyes briefly and went to retrieve the rest of the soup. Once everyone was seated, Finny across from him and Sweden across from Denmark, the meal began. Sealand would normally be seated at the head of the table to Norway's left, but he was over at a friend's house for the weekend, leaving only the elder Nordics.

Frustrated that he couldn't see Iceland, Lukas ladled the soup in to his mouth, making a face when the liquid scalded his tongue. Finny noticed and asked if he was alright, causing Denmark to pay attention to him, and there began a meal course's worth of bickering. Emil never said a thing as Sweden cleared the bowls away and brought out a large plate of - he'd guessed it - venison, and a dish of mashed potatoes that Finny had probably made, judging by the elegant sprinkle of spices atop the white mountain. Denmark dove for the food as if he would never have the opportunity to eat again, abandoning his argument with the prickly Norwegian. The other nations gathered their own portions from what he left behind. With the Dane leaning across the table to cut away strips of venison, Lukas was able to get his first good look at his little brother since they'd sat down. The boy looked just as reserved as before, but he noticed the anger still shadowed in his face and posture. He was about to try to engage him again when he noticed Finny shaking his head at him very deliberately.

Norway gave the Finn a questioning look, but Finland just gave him another meaningful look before taking a bite of his venison and glancing concernedly at Iceland.

Finland had noticed something wrong as soon as he and Sweden returned home after their shopping. Iceland was furious, and the guest they'd been expecting for lunch was nowhere in sight. And from the haughty, pleased look in Norway's eyes as he lounged on the loveseat with his music, Finny knew it was his fault. Worry had settled in to him immediately, but he knew that when it came to the brothers, asking was never a real chance at finding anything out. So Finny waited, and hovered, and tried to send reassurances and comfort to Iceland whenever he caught the teen's eye. It was all he knew to do.

And it payed off when, as Emil collected the plates to set out for dinner, he mumbled to the Finn, "Make sure I'm not sitting with him tonight." Finland nodded, and Emil looked the tiniest bit relieved, and he mumbled something else that may have even been a 'thank you'. Finny was happy, knowing he'd played even a miniscule part in helping the boy he had thought of as family for so many years. That didn't erase his concern though, and he made it a point to warn Lukas from provoking the boy. Whatever had happened between the brothers and possibly the guest, further meddling on Norway's part wouldn't help matters in the least.

Norway rolled his eyes at the Finn's mother hen behavior. Emil belonged to him after all - he was the only one who needed to worry about him.

Denmark began clamoring for beer, and then had a near panic attack when he realized there was none in the house. After that he bolted the rest of his food and complimented Sweden on dinner before darting out the door for his beloved alcohol. As usual, he forgot his coat.

In the sudden silence, each of the countries tensened. Finland was still warning Lukas with his eyes not to do anything stupid, and Norway was watching his brother, wondering if Iceland could feel his eyes boring in to him. He considered making Icey's silverware dance across the table to get his attention. Or having the troll grab his ankle. Knowing Ice though, he'd just kick it away. Sweden stood up, startling the other three nations from their various staring contests. "Des'rt," he grunted, going to retrieve the chocolate cake that Finny had made to satisfy his sweet tooth. They ate in silence, and the only time Iceland looked up from his plate was to give Finny a half-smile and indicate that the food was good. Tino smiled shyly back. Norway bent his fork, his grip too tight.

When dinner ended, there was an air of 'what now' about the room. Sweden, surprisingly, was the first to break the silence. "Go'n t' go aft'r Den. Migh' get'm self 'urt. Or som'un else." With that he stood up, kissed Finland goodbye and left. As much as he agreed that Denmark needed looking after Finny was sad for the loss of his backup. Even if he was almost as able, especially with a pistol, his fellow nations tended to forget that when they took his small stature.

Iceland stood, catching both countries' attention as he gathered the plates. He was careful to show absolutely nothing when he had to pass close to Norway, and quickly went to the kitchen to do the dishes. Lukas watched him go until the boy was out of sight, and was surprised to find the Finn glaring at him from across the table when he looked away.

"I don't know what you did to him, Norja, but I'd like to remind you that his happiness is supposed to be your first concern. That is what _big brothers _are for."

Finland let his words sink in before he rising and going to the kitchen to bid Iceland goodnight and to tell him to raise a shout if he should need him, then made his way up to bed. He only hoped that Norway's incredible knack for making things worse didn't take hold tonight.

Lukas watched the entrance to the kitchen, waiting to see if his little brother would come at him now that they were alone, wondering what he might throw. No such thing. The teen seemed content to hide out in the kitchen until Norway disappeared. 'I'm afraid that won't do, lillebror.'

He rose like a cat - silent, predatory, so self-assured, and he followed Emil into the kitchen.

'That won't do at all.'


	2. Chapter 2

Norway slunk into the kitchen soundlessly and found his little brother with his back to him, washing the dishes by hand. Torturing the dishes would actually be a more accurate description. He scraped the brush back and forth over the ceramic with enough force to bend the bristles completely back. Norway wouldn't be surprised if they had to replace the brush.

'Ah, so there is your anger, little Emil,' he thought, and proceeded to tap his fingers along the marble counter, making his presence known.

Iceland stiffened but did not turn, continuing his vicious scrubbing and ignoring Norway's existence. Lukas smirked and began casually, "So, Icey, what did the dishes ever do to you?"

"You bought them," Emil said coldly, obviously trying to maintain some distance. How adorably futile.

"It's a shame you can't just scrub me out of your life, hmm?" He leaned his hip against the counter, tilting his head so that he could see at least some of Emil's reaction.

Iceland's hands curled into fists against the plates. "Yes," he said, his voice terse with the effort to hold back his emotions. "A real shame."

Lukas narrowed his glacial blue eyes. 'You can try all you want to shut me out, Icey, but you won't succeed. You're stuck with me. Forever.' He decided to start really provoking the boy. Sidling up behind him Norway leaned his head forward to purr in his little brother's ear:

"So tell me, Emil, was it an enjoyable sight?"

Iceland threw the plate into the sink, where it shattered with a terrific crash.

"Damn you, Norway," he choked, shaking with betrayal, agony, and absolute fury."Damn you to _hell_."

* * *

On the second floor of the Nordic home Finland twirled the phone cord around his fingers, too nervous to sleep. He'd called Ber just to check that Denmark hadn't managed to pull him into any bar fights. The police station was clear on the other side of town, and they already lived out of the way enough. Finland didn't want to have to leave the brothers alone for as long as it would take to bail them out.

"Nah, we'r fine, Fin, he's ly'n out on th' bar, and whin'n 'bout God only knows - wha' was it again? Oh, Norge not lovin' ye or s'mthin."

Finland heard what may actually be the Dane crying into his beer. Sweden sighed in annoyance, perhaps even embarrassment. "Oh get over it, would ye? Yer a disgrace to men-"

Tino jumped up from where he was sitting at the sound of the crash. "Something just broke! They're fighting, I just _knew_ he'd do something stupid, that _idiot-_"

"Leave it alone, Finny," Sweden ordered, stopping the blonde in his tracks. He'd been almost to the door.

"But he might hurt Icey!" he cried.

Sweden scoffed. "Not likely. With any luck Icey'll 'urt HIM. The jackass desr'vs it."

"But Ber, we don't even know what they're fighting about!"

". . . No, but Den migh'. Ey, stop yer blubberin' a sec'n, ye big child. What'r Icey 'n Norge fight'n about?"

"I dunno," Denmark groaned, his speech slurred. Goodness, Finny thought, how many beers has he managed to swallow in less than an hour?

"Ye were 'ome all day, ye musta 'eard s'mthin."

A brief silence, then Denmark cried out suddenly, a needy sound like a child deprived of his teddy bear. Finny could only guess that his husband had taken the Dane's beer hostage. "Out with it," Sweden ordered.

"Look, Sve, all I heard was when Icey's little buddy got here around eight - slammin' door hurt m'head somethin' awful-"

"'M guessing ye were 'ung over then too," Berwald observed drily.

"Norge was ignoring me all day! Fumin' over the fact that Icey had a boyfriend coming over-"

"Boyfriend?" Finland breathed, shocked. "Are you sure, Denmark?" he asked through the phone, forgetting for a moment that he was actually talking to Berwald.

"Yer certain he was 'is beau?" the Swede asked for the Finn.

"Uh huh, damn sure. Tha's what Norge was so mad about. I guess 'e saw them kissing last week or something, though I thought Icey would be smart enough to do that away from the house, he knows how Nor gets-"

"But wha'd ye hear 'appen?" Berwald interrupted, wanting to get to the point.

"I just know tha Icey wanted to put in some movie for his boyfriend but he couldn't find it. Went all over the house lookin' for it, I could hear him throwing stuff around. Even came in _my_ room to see if I had it, but I hadn't seen the damn thing. I told'im he should ask Nor. They're the only two that're into those psych'logical mystery whatevers. I'd barely closed my eyes again when I hear Icey shouting and then doors got slammed and it was damn quiet in the house till you two got home. I had a great sleep. Now gimme m' beer, Sve, come on," Denmark pleaded.

"Leave it to Norge ta mess up any joy in tha' boy's life," Sweden said, shaking his head. "Ye best let 'em be, Finny. Icey needs ta have this one out with 'im. Don't do anythin' 'less ye hear gunshots. We'll be back soon. Love ye."

Finland blushed despite himself. No matter how many times he heard Sweden say it, it still meant something incredible to the Finn that Berwald actually loved him. "Love you too, Ber. Come home soon. And no bar fights!"

"Yea, yea," he heard him mutter before hanging up. Sighing and feeling as there was nothing much he could do the small Nordic untangled himself from the phone cord, turned off the light and shut his eyes, trying to relax.

They wouldn't hurt each other too badly . . . right?


	3. Chapter 3

Iceland grabbed the dish towel to get the water off of his shaking hands, staring unseeingly at the shards of white ceramic in the sink. He could feel that Norway had backed off just a bit at the sudden violence, but not far enough. He couldn't _be_ far enough away.

"I hate you," Iceland whispered, but his voice sounded strangled, choked. His grip tightened on the dish towel until he felt that it might rip. He had to keep his hands filled or he'd throw something else. He'd never felt this uncontrolled before, this _angry, _and his first instinct was to shy from it. It reminded him too much of the volcanic eruptions that plagued his home and always caused such devastation. Keeping the violence inside didn't get rid of the fury, though. Or the pain.

"I _hate_ you," he said again, and the words were foreign on his tongue. He had never said them to Norway before. "I loved him, and you took him away, like you always do. Why, Noregur? _WHY, damn it?_" he hissed. He was shaking everywhere now, his shoulders, his spine. Lukas saw a line of dark run down his pale face and realized that he was crying.

Emil's voice dropped to an almost inaudible whisper. "How come I'm not allowed to love anyone but you?"

There was absolute silence in the kitchen then save for the gush of the faucet over the shattered plate.

Iceland stiffened when he felt his brother behind him, his pale hands gripping the towel even tighter. Arms snaked around him so smoothly, so tenderly, that he almost didn't feel them. The arms barely touched him, and he knew that they were like a cage - he would only feel them keeping him in if he tried to leave.

Norway's mouth was right beside his ear; he could feel his words brush against it. His voice was soft as the falling snow. "Why, Emil? Because I am very, very selfish. And if you ever left me for someone else I would lose all control and sanity. It's not very fair to you, lillebror, but I won't change. I knew a long time ago how much I needed you, and I don't plan on ever letting you go."

Iceland felt skin brush against his ear - Lukas was nuzzling him.

"But . . . why did you have to kiss him?" Emil said, sounding even more choked than before. Because he could feel it now, the collar around his throat. It grew tighter with every time he struggled against it. He sounded . . . defeated, Norway thought to himself in satisfaction. The younger nation leaned back into him despite himself. Lukas held him tighter, because he could.

"To show you the truth. He wasn't good enough for you - wasn't even fit to kiss your shoe. None of them are good enough for you, Iśland - and they will all hurt you." Norway was rocking him now, and that was a low blow, because he knew the gesture was laced with nostalgia. This was how he had always comforted Iceland when he was child. It meant that everything was alright now. But it wasn't. It wasn't.

Lukas didn't care, though. Iceland was his, and he would use any means necessary to keep him.

"Y-you hurt me . . . too," the younger nation said with weak surliness, shooting a glare at the Norwegian out of the corner of his eye. But Lukas held him there, caught in familiar warmth, and knowing that he was furious with him wasn't making it any easier to fight him.

"Yes," Norway cooed, rubbing the bridge of his nose against the sensitive space just below his earlobe. Iceland shuddered, and Norway's arms constricted again when he tried to escape. "Yes, I hurt you. But that tends to happen, in matters of love."

"Well it SHOULDN'T!" The words tore from his throat in a yell, coming out against his will.

Lukas smiled, pressing his lips against the boy's neck. "Sweet, idealistic Emil. Nothing has destroyed your visions of princes and castles and dragons, has it?"

'You read me those stories,' Iceland thought, closing his eyes. 'Did you mean to lie to me? Did you know that sometimes the princes can be the dragons, that love doesn't conquer all, and that castles can be prisons?'

"You have."

Norway went still, then chuckled. "Yes, I suppose I have."

He turned him around, not giving him the choice of fighting back. For the first time tonight they were face to face, and if he'd had more strength Emil might have scratched Norway's pretty blue eyes right out of his head. The older nation's self-satisfied smirk lingered in the curve of his mouth.

"After today I don't imagine you'll believe the next boy on a white horse."

Anger positively _burned_ in Iceland's violet eyes then, and he hated him, he HATED him-

And oh how Lukas loved him, even in his hatred. He swooped like a bird of prey, heedless of everything but his prey-

His brother-

HIS-

He kissed him with such absolute possession that it felt like a branding.

Norway pulled back to allow him to breathe when he felt he'd made his point. Iceland was still shaking and he seemed sort of stunned, unable to focus. Lukas smiled and began to play with Emil's pretty hair. "You're mine, in case you've forgotten," he told him conversationally, and wide, devastated violet eyes flicked up to meet his. "You'll always be mine. And if I have to kiss an unworthy pawn every time you forget that, then so be it."

Iceland tore away from him, able to move now that Norway had dropped his caging arms. "You're fucking POISON!" he screamed at him. "You take anything that's good and you _BREAK IT!_ I loved him! God damn you I LOVED HIM!" And he hadn't even gotten the chance to tell him so.

His vibrant eyes swam with fury, betrayal and pain.

Norway said it anyway.

"But you don't love him anymore."

For a moment all Iceland could hear was his heart, the strangely hollow sound thudding in his ears. It seemed to fill his skull, sending echoes through the entire length of his body. He wasn't breathing. Then his mouth shaped the words that he knew might have repercussions. He wanted to be reckless. What was a little more pain, if he might hurt Norway in return?

_"I wish you were never my brother."_

Norway's eyes caught fire.

* * *

_So, I would love to know your thoughts, and I hope this wasn't a disappointment. Expect another chapter soon, with the other Nordics appearing as well. Happy New Year Everyone!_


End file.
